Answer in the Stars
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: He ran. He could do nothing but. They had taken from him more than he could bare, and he would not let them taking anything else from him, so he ran. He ran and kept running, until his legs betrayed him. When darkness claimed him, he had not expected to see light ever again. Though, to his surprise, a tiny ray of light pierced through the grief and pain.


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Written for the Quidditch League – Season 4 Fanfiction Competition – Round 4**

 **Prompt:** **Creature Comforts**

There are eight creatures listed below. Each member of the team must choose one –no double claims– as a prompt. You will be writing from the point of view of the creature you choose.

You are not limited to writing about canonical characters like Dobby, Hedwig or Firenze, or even from specific creatures that appeared in the series such as the Hungarian Horntail Harry fought. Any creature from any timeline is welcome; the sky's the limit!

 **Chaser 2:** Centaur

 **Additional prompts** :

#4.(poem) "The Peace of Wild Things"

#7.(image) webneel wallpaper/sites/default/files/images/04-2013/snowy-mountain-wallpaper.

#11.(dialogue) "Do you really need to do that?"

 **Chaser 2 for the Wimbourne Wasps**

* * *

 **Answer in the Stars**

The fast beating of his heart rang in his ears, drowning out the sound of breaking twigs and the pounding of his steps on the beaten road. He did not dare look back, afraid that the bright flashes would still be visible in the dead of the night. He did not want to remember what he was running from; he _could not_ remember it, too afraid of what he would do if he did. He had to run. He had to keep running until his legs could no longer carry him. He held the bundle in his arms closer to his chest, focusing on the steady breathing coming from it, needing it to eclipse the screams that were trying to take over his mind.

He paid no heed to the snow-covered ground or the dwindling trees. They had never been so close to the mountain before, had never dared to leave their home, but their home was gone now. And if it was not, then it would soon be. He shook his head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. He had to keep running. He could not stop, no matter how sore his muscles were or how the freezing cold kept seeping into his bones, making him feel as if the hands of the Reaper himself were trying to pull his soul from his body.

He kept running. He had no other choice. He could not lose more than he already had.

His strength failed him, his legs buckling under him. He tightened his arms around the precious bundle, turning his body to shield his fragile cargo. He grunted as his body hit the freezing ground, his vision blackening for a moment. Or two. Or three.

How long had it been?

His body felt far too stiff for his eyes to have closed for merely a moment. His mind felt hazy. He could hardly see.

No. No, no, no, no.

He tried to stand, but his body refused to obey him.

Please, please, just a little more.

He tried to move his arms, to hold the small bundle closer, but even that action was impossible.

Please! He prayed, he begged, uncaring of who heard him, of who answered his prayers.

His vision swam, darkening around the edges, and he screamed his frustration, anger, and soul-tearing grief at the skies.

Please, no. Not him, please!

Darkness swallowed him.

* * *

He felt groggy, and his limbs weighed a ton; he blinked, trying to focus, though it only heightened his awareness of his pounding headache. He groaned, slamming his eyes shut and gripping his head.

His eyes snapped back open, panic flooding every inch of his being. He staggered upright, looking around frantically.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Please, please, please.

His attention snapped to the creaking door, noticing then that there _was_ a door in the room he found himself in—such was his panic.

His eyes narrowed at the man who walked in; the man seemed harmless enough, but he could not be fooled. The wand in his hand said everything he needed to know about the man. He might be weakened and unarmed, but he would not hesitate to go down fighting. He would avenge those he had lost—he had no one left to live for, he was sure of it—even if it would cost him his life.

The wizard stayed by the door, raising his hands. That stopped him from acting, from stomping that wizard into the ground and venting his rage and grief. Still, even then, he remained tense, every muscle in his body ready for an attack.

"Where is my son?"

His son might have perished, but he wanted to hold him one last time, and put him to rest. He had been unable to do it for his oldest; at least, he would do it for his youngest. Not even a muscle moved in his expression as he spoke, but his soul was crying out. Why? Why! He had fled! He had left his herd to keep his child safe; why had he lost him, too? Was it his punishment? Why had the stars not told him of this? Why had they given no warning? And his children… both so young. Why them? Why had he lived while losing what was most precious under the stars?

"He's outside," the wizard replied, and it took everything he had not to react. Outside? Could these wizards not even show them respect in death? "He's safe. He woke up a little while ago."

What? The beating of his heart was unbearably loud. What had the wizard said? It couldn't be true; not even wizards could be so cruel as to lie about something like this, could they? Not even they would want to tear at someone's soul so brutally. Their hatred could not possibly run that deep.

The wizard's expression softened, and every fiber of his being wanted to lash out.

"Look out the window. You'll be able to see him."

Every muscle in his body seemed to be frozen in place. Could he look? He knew his heart would not be able to handle heartbreak—he would shatter, thanking the wizard when he finally tired of his games and decided to end his life in a light of bright, poisonous green.

Body turning slightly, he glanced out the window.

His breath caught in his throat. His heart stopped beating. His legs gave up on him, and he staggered to the floor, barely noticing the wizard hurrying towards him and steadying him. He did not even mind that the wizard was touching him.

He was far too enthralled by the picture that he was being gifted with. His son, his little foal, was outside, following a small dog. There was a smile on his child's lips. It was small, but it was there. It was something he never thought he would see again.

He closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. His son was alive; he had not failed him. He had not lost the only thing worth living for.

"Hey, breathe."

He flinched when he became aware of the wizard's hands on him, and the wizard stepped back. He took another shuddering breath, exhaling slowly; feeling more centered, he tried to stand. His legs still felt like those of a newborn foal; however, he refused to show more weakness than he already had in front of the wizard.

He glanced at the man, unsure about how to act. It was clear to him that this human had saved his son—and himself as well, though that was barely a thought in his mind—which he was grateful for, however, the man was still a wizard, and he knew nothing good was ever to be expected from them.

"You should be careful; your side is still injured. I tried to heal it as best I could, but I'm not that great at healing," the wizard babbled.

He raised an eyebrow in response. He had never had such an interaction with a wizard. He was used to sneers and arrogance and cruel words; this... this was different.

The wizard visibly deflated when he did not say anything. "I'll take you to your son, if you want to."

He narrowed his eyes, but nodded. The sooner he saw his son, the sooner they could be on their way. He was not comfortable so close to a human, much less inside a human dwelling. How they could live in such enclosed spaces was a mystery to him. The herd had shelters, true, but they were open, and they could always see the sky.

"Alright, follow me."

He followed the wizard out of the room, anxious to get to his son. He could hear a soft giggle and his heart stuttered. That was his son. His son was giggling. After the events they had been through, he had not thought that he would ever hear such a sweet sound again. The tiniest of smiles graced his lips as he walked outside, seeing his son alive and well.

"Daddy!"

He was sure that was the most beautiful sound in the world. He wrapped his arms around the body that collided with his legs, ignoring the pain that raced through his body at the rough handling. His son was safe and back in his arms, where he should be.

"Son," he breathed, relief washing over him. His youngest was safe, was alive.

"Daddy, Mister Raphael made me all better, look." His son turned, showing a healing gash on his right hind-leg.

"I see," he murmured, stroking his son's hair. He glanced at the wizard from the corner of his eyes, noticing that the wizard had stayed by the door, giving them space.

"Mister Raphael was really nice, Daddy, not like those mean wizards who hurt everyone." His son's shoulders slumped. "Daddy… Rowan… Rowan's gone, isn't he?"

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the piercing pain that was tearing his heart apart. "Yes," he murmured, hating the word almost as much as the magic that had taken his firstborn from him. Rowan had only recently reached eleven winters, far too young to be taken from the world. He pulled his son closer, holding onto him like a life-line and letting his son muffle his sobs against his torso.

He did not know how long they stood there, however, his son ended up slumping in his arms, exhaustion having caught up to him.

He tensed when he heard a throat being cleared not too far from them. For a moment he had forgotten about the wizard. Raphael, was that not the name his son had called him? The arms around his son tightened, the urge to shield him from the wizard almost overwhelming.

"You are both still recovering. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I… I mean, even if you don't feel comfortable inside, the garden is shielded from the elements."

He frowned at the human. Why was the human trying to help? No wizard had ever shown them any kindness.

"You'll be safe here." Safe? With a wizard? He doubted he would believe such a thing even if the stars told him so. "I promise."

He sneered. The wizard promised? Those other wizards had promised as well. They had promised that they came in peace, that they simply wanted to talk. They had promised that they meant no harm. They had promised… "I have heard that one before," he whispered, more to himself than to the wizard. A wizard's promise had taken more from him than he could bare to lose.

"I… please, stay." The wizard took a step forward. "Your son needs rest. Even if you don't want to go inside the cottage, at least stay in the garden where it's warm. As soon as the sun sets, the temperature will drop drastically. He needs rest."

He glanced at the small form of his son. Everything in him was telling him to leave, to never trust the word of a wizard, but the tiny body of his son kept him in place. He might be strong enough to survive the unforgiving winters, even whilst injured, however, his son was not. His son had just experienced his sixth winter, too young an age to leave their shelter and experience the harshness of the winter season out in the open.

Without looking away from his son, he nodded. "The garden." He would not remain in the human dwelling; he did not believe he would be able to stand feeling that contained.

The human smiled, deep blue eyes brightening at his acceptance.

"Great, follow me. I'll show you around."

Lifting his son into his arms, he followed the human around to the other side of the cottage. He was surprised when he saw a grassy field there, without even a trace of snow. The garden was in full bloom, as if winter had decided to leave that little square of land alone, or as if summer had never left.

He settled his son near a vibrant, blooming bush. He pretended not to see the wizard hovering nearby; he might have accepted the help the wizard offered, however, that did not mean he would allow himself to relax. He did not believe he could do it in a wizard's territory, no matter how well-intended the wizard seemed.

He settled beside his son, shielding him as much as he could, and once the wizard went back inside, he sagged. He was exhausted. His body ached, the feeling of that horrible curse the humans had created still lingering. Worse still was his heart, his soul. He did not believe either of those would ever recover. How could they? He lost half of both with the death of his firstborn. He would rather suffer the effects of that unforgivable curse again than have to experience this pain.

He leaned closer to his son, needing the reassurance that he was alive, and let his eyes fall closed. As exhaustion won his fight against awareness, he hoped that his rest would not be haunted by nightmares.

* * *

He jerked awake, looking around frantically, his heart beating furiously in his chest. A dream. A nightmare. It was nothing but a nightmare. His son was safe. Safe. He looked down, just to make sure, and his hand went to the white-blond, messy locks.

He took a deep breath and leaned away from his son before he stood. He gazed at his son, then at the cottage, noticing a dim light coming from one of the windows. He did not truly trust the wizard, but if he had wanted to hurt them, he could have done so already. He did not want to leave his child, but he needed a moment away.

He made his way out of the garden, following the sound of a rushing river he could hear nearby. He gazed at the stars, seeking answers he knew he would not find. The stars spoke of blood and war, of bright hope to be born, only to be torn asunder. They spoke of falls and risings, with more war to follow. Dark and Light clashing again and again, until one swallowed the other completely. They told him many, many things, though none told him how he could muster the strength to keep on living.

A twig snapped near him, breaking him out of his thoughts. He stamped his hooves against the ground, startling the wizard.

"It's just me!" The human raised his hands. "Do you really need to do that?"

Only then did he notice that he was still stomping his hooves. He stopped, narrowing his eyes at the human.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just… I saw you come out here, and it's nearing midnight, so I got worried. Sorry." The wizard shrugged.

He could do nothing but stare at the man.

Such a strange wizard.

He turned back to look at the stars. They might not have the answers he wanted, but they were far easier to understand than the wizard.

"I'm sorry." The wizard's voice was softer. "I read about the attack in the papers."

He tensed. He did not want to think about the attack. He could not. He did not want to remember his herd slain with such cruelty, such hate.

"Rowan… he was your son?"

He turned around, ready to stomp the wizard into the ground, only to be met with compassion-filled eyes. He lowered his front legs, eyes locking with the dark blue ones of the wizard.

"I had a child, as well," the wizard whispered. "I… I never got along with my family. You might have heard of them? The Lestranges?"

He snorted. Who had not heard about that family? They were as infamous as the Blacks.

"Yes, well, I was the spare, you know? Never quite lived up to my brilliant older brother, but my parents hardly cared as long as I didn't shame the family. I ran away as soon as I turned seventeen, only saw them once after that. I have two nephews that I never met, Rodolphus and Rabastan. I ran when my family arranged for me to marry one of the Black daughters; there were a few available at the time. But I was in love, you see, so we ran away together. For a few years, we were happy, and she gave me a beautiful son, Rhodrick. We were happy." There was no disguising the grief in that smile. "Then, my family found us. Her blood was not pure enough. My beautiful baby boy was seen as a taint on the family name. I tried to protect them; I tried to fight…" The wizard looked away, tears swimming in those dark eyes.

"Daddy?"

Both snapped their heads towards the soft voice. He looked at the wizard, seeing the pain and compassion in his eyes for the first time.

"Here, son."

His son came trotting over, burrowing into his flank when he reached them. He smiled down at his child, then looked up at the wiz– at Raphael. The stars had no need to give him an answer, when that answer was right there at his side.

"Come, Firenze. I believe Raphael offered us his home to recover. My name is Morian. I thank you for caring for my child."

Raphael smiled at them. "You're very welcome."

As he followed Raphael inside, he felt his heart settle in the company of shared pain and freely given comfort.

* * *

 **Additional challenges:**

 **DAII**

 **Fairy Tales**

 ** _Classic Fairy Tales_**

 **#9 -Rumpelstiltskin - Write about the loss of a firstborn child. Alternatively, write about the Philosopher's Stone.**

 **Optional Prompts**

 ** _Dialogue_**

 **"I promise." / "I've heard that one before."**

 ** _Words_**

 **Midnight**

* * *

 **A.N.:** I want to thank my amazing teammates, agentmopped, 3cheersforidiots, and kefalion for beta'ing. You're all wonderful. Go, Wasps!


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